


To the Death

by princesskay



Series: The Pirate and the Mermaid Saga [6]
Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Childbirth, Fantasy, Fatherhood, M/M, Mpreg, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:56:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1599062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the eve of battle with mermaid murdering pirates, Billa goes into labor . . . Will Captain Tom be able to save them all? Or will it end in a fight to the death? . . . .</p><p>This is a DIRECT sequel to Compromises!!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In my personal opinion, this is probably the best part of this series so far . . . I'd like to say a word of thanks to my girl emerald sea over on THF for really motivating me to get this chapter finished! I couldn't have done it without her . . . And for everyone who's really on the edge of their seat waiting for this baby to finally be born, the moment is HERE! Enjoy!

A thick fog rolled across the ocean that night, like an endless ghost haunting the bloodied waters of Billa's home.

Tom withdrew himself from his private quarters to check their course and note how long until they reached their destination. He was loathe to leave Billa, especially with the recent wounds of the fight still lingering, though slightly soothed by their slow, passionate lovemaking.

He was worried to the point of sickness that something would happen to the baby while he was gone dealing with the rogue pirates that were attacking the mermaids. Multiple scenarios in which something terrible happened to Billa during the childbirth, or he was somehow caught by the pirates, flashed through his brain in painful, quicksilver images. However, whereas he had once had the choice to turn back, he no longer was presented that option, as they were nearly on Jorg's doorstep.

Tom stood at the wheel of the ship with Georg, dressed in his usual attire and a black, wool overcoat to ward off the cold that had rolled in with the fog. His hat was down low over his bandana, shrouding his eyes in even deeper shadow than the night offered. His mood was somber and macabre, and he knew blood would be shed tonight. Much blood.

He was ready for it. He wanted to feel the hot, sticky fluid gush over his fingers as his sword sliced through flesh, felling the last enemy that stood between his and Billa's happiness.

“There.” Georg said in a whisper, though the deck was absolutely quiet.

Across the waters, Tom could glimpse the figure of the other ship floating in the misty waters, several lanterns hung high to illuminate the water below. They were hunting.

“Drop the anchor.” Tom ordered, his voice low and determined.

Georg passed on the order to the rest of the mates that stood by. Tom heard the quiet splash of water down below as the anchor dropped, then felt the slight tug on the ship when it hit the ocean floor. The ship came to a stop, floating listlessly against the moorings as the crew waited for the next command.

“We'll hit them quietly.” Tom said, clasping his hands behind his back, “I want boats to row some men out there. We'll climb aboard and finish them.”

Georg nodded, “A good plan, Captain.”

Tom narrowed his eyes, “I don't want a single man left alive.”

 

~

 

Tom went into his quarters and quickly said goodbye to Billa. He didn't linger long, afraid his resolve would shatter at the sight of his love lying weakly in the hammock, nearly ready to give birth. A voice inside his head, continued to whisper that he was making a mistake, but this was the path Billa chose. And deep down, Tom knew it was the right thing to do.

So he left, taking half the crew on the boats and leaving the rest with Georg, making his second the temporary captain – or permanent should he not return. The crew on the ship was to stay at their battle stations, ready to attack when the appointed time came for them to pull up the anchor and cross the water to assist Tom. Those that followed Tom across the murky waters to the opposing ship were ready to go to war.

Tom didn't know if all of his men supported his crusade for the mermaids, or even his relationship to Billa, but he knew that most of them were ready to fight to the death for their captain. He was all at once grateful and saddened that he had such a willing crew at his back; they shouldn't have to die for a cause they didn't truly believe in.

As Tom sat at the head of the first boat to embark across the water, he looked up at the night sky, wondering if Captain Bowie could see the actions his protege was making. If so, did he approve? Would he have done the entire situation differently?

Tom had never so doubted his position as captain, but now he could only pray that was making the right decision . . . And that his predecessor would still be pleased with his decision to leave his beloved _Virtuosa_ in Tom's hands. 

~

 

Billa was lying curled up in the hammock when Tom quietly entered. Tom crossed the room, silent and brooding. Billa could see that Tom was fully engrained in his role as captain, hardly a shade of the loving, caring man that had so recently wrought pleasure on his body.

Tom laid a rough, calloused hand on Billa' head and stroked his fingers through the long, silky strands.

“We're leaving now.”

Billa bit his lower lip, “Please, be careful.”

Tom sighed through his nostrils, his brow furling in concern, “I will come back, Billa. It's you I'm concerned about.”

“I know. . . But we agreed, didn't we? I stay here, and you . . . go save the day.” Billa conjured a weak, playful smile.

“Right.” Tom snorted.

“It's my family-” Billa began, lifting his head from the pillow.

“I know. Don't get yourself worked up again.” Tom commanded, softly, pressing Billa's head back against the pillow.

Billa reached up and held his hand, “I love you.”

Tom leaned down and kissed his forehead, giving little more than a quiet grunt in response before turning and leaving the room.

Billa pursed his lips, swallowimg back emotion as the door slammed shut behind Tom.

For all he knew, it could be the last time he saw Tom . . . And to know Billa had been the one to send him out there made the thought even more painful.

Billa's fears for Tom were eclipsed by the sudden, sharp pain in his stomach. He doubled over in the bed, clutching his swollen belly as intense waves of pain crashed over him. It came hard and fast, assaulting him like knives cutting through his pregnant middle. Billa gasped and choked in pain, writhing against the bedding as this spell lasted much longer than the last two.

“oh God. . .” he groaned, pawing at his pants when he felt a hot flow of liquid between his legs.

He sat up, almost too fast, grappling his pants off of his legs. His heart palpitated in panicky flutters, his stomach turning over as the possibilities agonized him.

A wave of relief rushed over him when he saw that he wasn't bleeding. It was just his water breaking, signaling to him that he was nearly ready to give birth.

Billa sank back against the hammock, his weak, trembling fingers dropping the pants to the floor. He lay on his back, naked from the waste down, fighting off tears and pain, now almost regretting his decision to send Tom away into battle. Perhaps, Tom should have been allowed the moment to see his child take it's first breath . . . Oh God, what if it never happened?

Billa was struck almost breathless, writhing in anguished silence, as his mind recalled the moment when his own mother had breathed her last while trying to give birth to Billa's brother. It had gone terribly wrong, and though his father had the best doctors at hand, they couldn't save mother or child. Billa was terrified that would happen to him; that the sea, not Tom's arms, would be the last to hold him, that his child would fall quietly to the depths, never seeing sunlight, never seeing his father's loving gaze.

Another wave of pain ripped through his middle, and Billa was jarred from his horrible thoughts. With the contractions rocking him, he knew he had to get up. He had to get to the water.

Billa thrust his weak legs over the edge of the hammock, focusing on the floor below. His head spun in dizzying circles and his insides hurt so bad he felt nauseated. He could feel a cold sweat on his skin, making his palms clammy. Breathing quick and shallow, Billa stretched his toes toward the floor while trying to keep the hammock balanced. The hammock was hung for Tom's height, which exceeded Billa's by a few inches; the task of climbing in had been much easier than getting down.

Billa lost his focus to another contraction and the hammock tipped wildly under the uneven distribution of weight. With a sharp cry, Billa crashed to the floor. Pain jolted through his bones as he struck the hard, wood surface, but he forced the tears back. He pushed himself to his hands and knees and started at a slow crawl toward the door of the cabin. It seemed a million yards away, moving farther from his grasp with each step he took.

Billa was sweating and panting by the time he reached the other side of the room. He leaned against the wall for a moment, catching his breath, and clutching his hands over his stomach. There was movement inside, but where the tiny kicks had once brought Billa delight, they now only caused the torment to heighten.

“Stop. . .” He whimpered, curling up against the wall, “Please . . . be still. . .”

Tears rolled down his cheeks and he hiccuped in weak, faltering breaths. He had never felt such pain in his life. What if he couldn't get through it?

The thought all at once shocked him and angered him.

He had to get up and get to the water. Lying on the floor and crying could do little for him or the baby. He had done this; he had seduced Tom, he had let a human impregnate him, he had carried their offspring to full term. Now was not the time to give up; it was his choice whether or not he lived through the ordeal, and he sure as hell wasn't ready to give up. His man was out there fighting for not only Billa's life, but also the lives of his family and friends; he couldn't let Tom down.

With a growl, Billa pushed past the pain and reached up for the doorknob. His trembling fingers closed around the cool metal and he yanked the door open.

The hallway outside as dark and silent; only a little light from the sky filtered down the stairs that led up to the deck. Half the crew had taken the boats over to the other ship, and the _Virtuosa_ was eerily quiet and abandoned. 

Billa struggled to his feet and stumbled out into the hall, leaning heavily against one wall to support himself as he made his way toward the stairs. He threw out a hand to the railing and clutched it in a death grip as he pulled himself up onto the stairs. The progress was slow and mostly painful with the contractions coming more rapidly now, but Billa kept his eyes up on the deck. He tripped several times, only to force himself back to his feet and press on. He was nearly to the top when his toe caught once more and he sprawled forward onto the deck, uttering a sharp cry of pain. He lay still for a moment as the pain transferred through each part of his body, pushing the tears fully to his eyes.

“Oh my God! Billa, are you ok?”

Billa lifted his head from the cold wood slats and made out the figure of Georg, through the darkness and his tear-filled eyes.

“Help. . .” He murmured, lifting his hand for Georg.

Georg slid to his knees on the floor next to Billa and lifted him up, “What are you doing out of bed?” He insisted, “Captain said for you stay-”

“It's coming.” Billa panted, leaning against Georg for support, “I can't wait any longer . . . I have to get to the water.”

“Wait. . . The baby . . .?” Georg's eyes were wide with shock and panic.

Billa nodded and clutched Georg's arm harder, “Please, get me to the water.”

“The water?” Georg snapped, “You need a fucking doctor!”

“No!” Billa shrieked, “Listen to me! I need to get in the water. NOW! If you don't help me get into the water, both me and this baby are going to die!”

Georg closed his mouth, and Billa could see a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. The second in command had been left here to look over the crew _and_ Billa. Tom would be pissed as hell if he returned to find his Billa gone, perhaps never to come back.

“Ahhh!” Billa cried, his body bowing over as his insides contracted, trying to push the baby from his womb. He lifted his head, groaning, “Georg! For the love of God!”

“Okay, okay!” Georg cried, snapping into motion.

He slid his arms under Billa's body and hoisted them both up from the floor. He moved swiftly across the deck, carrying Billa's shaking body in his arms, until he reached the edge. Down below, the water shimmered beneath a layer a fog, now seeming more dark and dense than ever before. Billa had never been afraid of the sea, but now, he was more frightened than ever that he would never return from the watery depths.

“Okay.” He whispered as they both gazed down at the water, “I'll change back to my mermaid form, and then you can let go.”

“Let go?” Georg argued, his face drained of color, “I can't just throw you-”

“You have to.” Billa insisted, “It's okay. I can swim.”

“I know, I just . . . This doesn't feel right.” Georg insisted.

“There's no other way.” Billa said.

He closed his eyes firmly and concentrated as he had learned to do. When his eyes cracked open again, his legs were replaced by a long, graceful tail that finished in broad, shimmering fins. He flicked them anxiously, wondering if he would feel stiff from not using his tail for so long. Much to his relief, the extension moved just as perfectly as it always had.

“Okay.” He drew in a deep breath and let it out, “Let go of me.”

“This is crazy.” Georg murmured.

“Thank you for helping me.” Billa smiled softly, “You're a good captain, Georg. Now please, let me go.”

Georg bit his lip, and shook his head. Then he stepped to the edge and released Billa into empty air. The moment Billa was gone, racing toward the water, Georg regretted his decision. Billa had no experience with pregnancy, and all alone in the water, he could likely die or be seriously injured. Tom was going to be mad; so fucking mad.

 

~

 

When Tom's entourage of men reached the other ship, they used the anchor rope to climb up to the deck. They moved silently in the night, any noise they made easily passing for creaking or settling in the ship. Tom could hear movement and voices up above, but only caught fragments of conversation. What he could hear centered on the reason for the pirates' being here – the mermaids.

When Tom reached the top, he paused to peek over the edge, scouting out the situation. Lights had been hung by poles out over the water to better view the hunting ground; the lanterns also provided illumination for Tom to see his targets by. Most of the men were focused on the other side of the ship, harpoons in one hand, some sort of bait in the other. Tom and his crew had come just in time.

Tom pulled himself up over the edge of the ship and landed softly on the balls of his feet. He crouched behind some rigging and waited as more of his men crept aboard. While he waited, he ran his gaze over each crew member, hoping to pinpoint the captain before the bloodshed began. He wanted to take the man down personally, for convincing his men to follow this ill-fated and sickening plan. Unfortunately, none of the men's actions indicated to Tom that one of them was responsible for the direction of his ship.

Once most of the men were aboard, Tom motioned for them to attack.

He wasn't giving them any mercy, or a chance to surrender. They had already defended the mermaids once, and apparently, these pirates were willing to face the risk. Tom didn't want to put a bandage over the situation and hope that it didn't spring a leak. He wanted the threat gone for good so that he and Billa could finally be one step closer to happiness together.

Abandoning secrecy, Tom's crewmen rushed forward as one, swords drawn. Tom was the first to shed blood, stabbing his sword clean through the middle of a man who was swinging a harpoon. The man's scream of pain alerted all the rest, who hardly had time to draw their own swords before Tom's crew was upon them.

The deck was suddenly alive with movements and sound – close quarters combat between the two crews, and the screams of dying men as metal met flesh. With the element of surprise on their side, Tom's men quickly gained the advantage. Tom didn't take his gaze from fighting once, but he sincerely hoped he didn't lose any good men out of the battle.

Tom threw all of his anger and frustration at each competitor, fighting harder than at their first meeting with these pirates, harder than at the Deadly Lagoon, harder than he had fought Billa for this confrontation to never occur. To him, each man he vanquished was the face of the true enemy he was fighting, because up to this point, he hadn't been able to attach the beast anything tangible. It was a concept – the idea that he and Billa could actually be happy together and live a peaceful, quiet life with their child – and the adversary - the angry, thirsty beast that kept ripping hope away from them. It was piracy, when he boiled it down to the last solid grain; he was going to have to give it up if he really wanted to be with Billa.

Tom and his crew had just cut through most of the hunters on the deck when they heard a shout from across the ship. Tom looked up to see several men emerging from the crew's quarters, all looking very horrified to see so much blood spilled on the very deck of their ship.

Tom looked around, taking quick account of each of his men before ordering, “Cut down all the lanterns and throw over the harpoons. Quickly! We don't have much time!”

Gustav and Andreas quickly followed Tom's command, climbing up on the edge of the railings to slash the lanterns from their ropes. The glimmering lights sailing into the inky darkness of the sea, plunging the bloodied deck into darkness. A few others took up the fallen harpoons and tossed them overboard, sending the evil tools to the depths of the ocean.

By the time these things were done, the rest of the crew had descended from the quarters to attack Tom's men. Tom still hadn't laid eyes on the captain, but he was willing to slash and kill his way through each crew member to find the man responsible for all this bloodshed.

At the front of the opposing crew, a man with long, greasy hair swaggered down the steps toward them. His sword was out and he was eying Tom with anger and distrust.

“Who are you?” He demanded.

“I am Captain Trumper.” Tom replied, “We are here because of what you are doing to the creatures that live in these waters . . . Are you the captain of this ship?”

“No.” The man replied, “And you will never get near our captain, you murdering bastard.”

“We met in battle once before, nigh on two months ago.” Tom replied, “Over these same waters we fought, and I thought perhaps you had learned your lesson.”

“And what is your stake in the mermaids?” The man sneered, “Certainly you can see the value.”

“We have an alliance with them, and we won't allow you to destroy their kind for money.” Tom retorted.

The alliance was a lie, but Tom preferred not to reveal that he had a personal stake in the matter. Better to not give these man cannon fodder shoulder this battle go poorly; better to not remind himself, because his resolve was already weak at it's very foundation.

“What will it take to get rid of you?” The man asked, spreading his hands.

“It will take this whole crew being dead and this ship burned to ashes.” Tom said, darkly, “Now, perhaps you come down here and face me like a man, or talk me to death from your lofty position, there?”

The man's eyes narrowed and he moved farther down the stairs, “All right then. A dual, while my crew slaughters yours?”

Tom nodded, “A dual while my men destroy this entire ship.”

As the man descended the steps and swaggered across the deck, Tom surmised that he was the second in command, sent out here to peacock while the captain hid himself or got away. A clever little plan, but one that would not work. Tom was determined to find the captain and kill him.

The second in command addressed his men, “Kill them and leave the captain to me.”

The men spread out across the deck, each finding a quick opponent. The din of sword fighting erupted on the ship once more, and Tom did his best to focus solely on the man before him. They circled slowly, eyes locked, each just as determined as the other to win.

The man's eye twitched just before he struck, and Tom easily lifted his own sword to defend himself. Their swords clashed, stayed locked for a few moments, before disconnecting. They circled faster, then returned blows, blades ringing against each other while they moved back and forth across the deck. Their foot work nearly matched; Tom could see that this particular pirate was quite a good swordsman, but he was hardly daunted by the realization. Captain Bowie had taught Tom well how to defend himself, even if he had only lived the life of a pirate for four years before taking on the role of captain.

At last, the man faltered, and Tom struck across his shoulder, causing dark red to blossom against the stark white of his shirt. The man uttered a cry of pain and stumbled back, keeping his sword up to defend himself. Tom barreled forward, lashing out against the man's weakness and all but driving him to the ground. His sword cut through material once more, laying a wound into the man's stomach before he crumpled to his knees. The man's back was to Tom as he knelt on the ground, breathing loud and shallow, his long, dark hair hanging over his face.

Tom placed his sword against the back of the man's neck, “Surrender.”

And just as he though the cocky first mate might agree, the man pushed up off the ground and spun around, sword still firmly in his hand. The blade cut through flesh across Tom's ribs and the man swung his arm up into a headlock around Tom's neck. He dragged Tom's smarting, bleeding body up against his chest and pressed his sword to Tom's throat.

The whole two crews stopped moving as the man shouted.

“Anyone calling himself a member of Trumper's crew, surrender now!”

Tom's men gazed back at him in shock, each one wavering and loathe to put their sword down.

“Surrender!” The second mate repeated, “Or I'll slit your captain's throat right where he stands.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Childbirth, they say, is as close a person comes to death as they ever will in their lifetime. Most people have the comfort of a doctor and family by their side to help them through.

As Billa's body hit the cold, unforgiving water, he knew there would be no one here to help him. No one to save him. He was all alone to face the most horrifying moment of his life.

The force of the drop plunged him deep into the water, and for a terrifying few moments, his body was spinning helplessly through the waves of cold, unable to stop his descent. At last, with a frantically flapping tail, he managed to turn himself upright and steady his pain-wracked body to a gentle float. He breathed in ocean water and closed his eyes, hoping to steady himself with the familiarity, only to be instantly distracted by the pain tearing through his lower half.

The contractions were coming hard now, hardly a minute in between each one. It wouldn't be much longer by standard time frames of delivery, but to Billa, each second stretched out to infinity. It felt as if his body was being split in half, and for all he knew, his flesh could already be ripping open.

Billa wrapped his arms around his stomach and pulled his legs up, letting his body float and contort in the fetal position while wave after wave of pain assaulted him. And although he knew the baby couldn't hear him, all he could think was, _Please, come out . . . Don't make this go on. Please!_

He didn't know how long he floated there for, his body twisting and trembling in the cold, dark water. It seemed like hours, days . . . When his eyes occasionally cracked open, he could see blood dispersing through the water, and his fingers, white as death against the stark color. Barely a hint of moon sent tiny, pale rays through the water . . .

With a gasp, he realized that the _Virtuosa_ was no longer above him. Where the underside of the giant ship had once blocked out the moonlight, the illumination now freely passed into the water. They were gone? They were leaving him out here? What if they were gone for good?

Panicked, Billa began to swim, only to come to a halt when the cramps forced his body to curl up again. His hoarse cries were muffled and his tears melded instantly with the water. He wanted to break to the surface and search for the ship, for his Tom, but he could hardly move with the debilitating pain scorching his insides.

Moving more slowly this time, he urged his tail against the water, allowing his body to glide slowly forward. His face was twisted in pain, but he could barely make out the form of two ships ahead . . . Too far away for Billa to scream for help or draw their attention.

He went limp in the water, nearly exhausted from the little energy he had poured into swimming. His body twitched of it's own accord and he felt the urge to push returning, though he wished it would just be over with. He closed his eyes and felt hot tears against his lids, fresh panic rising up in his chest. It hurt so bad, and he was terrified that he would never see the sun again. He was so afraid his baby would die. He was afraid he would never see Tom again; that thought, above all else, was perhaps the scariest. Tom was the only one had ever loved; he had given his first kiss to Tom, his first heat, his virginity, his love, his trust, his heart . . . Everything that he was was somehow, irrevocably attached to Tom. He couldn't die without at least getting to say goodbye one last time . . .

Billa didn't want to give up. He wanted to be strong and fight because that's what Tom would do . . . But he felt so weak, so drained, and his body ached like it would never be fixed again. It felt as if he had been fighting to have this baby for years, only to find that his struggle had been for naught. The baby was still not delivered, and he barely had the strength to open his eyes.

“Help . . .” His lips moved weakly against the water, “Someone, help me . . .”

Suddenly there was a flash, molten light against his shut eyelids, and a rush of warmth, like heat being infused into the water he floated in. His heart took up a panicky rhythm and his eyes popped open, only to be blinded by hot, pure, white light. He tried to swim, afraid of what was behind that light, only to be caught by gentle hands.

The painfully white light subsided, and Billa could see a beautiful flawless face, surrounded by thick, ebony hair. She smiled softly and touched his forehead.

_Do you remember me, Billa?_

He gazed dumbly upon her stunning face, his mind peacefully slogging through the memories of a hidden cave, a warm tingling sensation, and a beautiful face, just like this one.

He nodded, softly.

_Good. I'm going to help you, darling. Relax._

Her voice was like a wind chime in his head, soft and melodic, but not quite solid and real.

He did as he was told and relaxed against her touch.

Suddenly, the pain was gone, and he knew everything would be okay.

 

~

 

Tom struggled weakly in the man's grasp, fighting off the pain tearing through his side. All of his men were looking at him for direction, but he had little idea what they should do. This hadn't been a part of the plan.

“You shouldn't have come so unprepared.” The man hissed in his ear, and his breath smelled foul.

Tom winced and turned his face away. Opening his eyes, he saw a light through the thick fog, and slowly, the bow knifed it's way through the thin, lingering clouds.

Tom managed a smile, “Not so unprepared.”

There was a dull thud as the big, strong bow of the _Virtuosa_ rammed into the side of the smaller ship. Wood cracked beneath them, and every crew member was thrown to the side with force. Tom pulled himself out of the man's grasp and tumbled to the floor, holding his bleeding side. The _Virtuosa_ ran the ship several yards before the two connected ships came to a slow, grinding stop. Despite the pain, Tom couldn't suppress his grin as Georg appeared above them, climbing over the railing of the ship and standing on the crown of carved woman's head at the front of the _Virtuosa._

“Surrender!” Georg shouted the crew below, “Surrender now, you pathetic cowards, or I will ram this ship straight to Davy Jones's locker!”

Tom managed a chuckle at Georg's more than warranted bravado. Like a good first mate, Georg had kept the plan and made his appearance ten minutes after Tom and the rest of the crew boarded. Good timing to say the least.

Tom heard swords dropping around him, though there were few left to fight now. He pushed himself to his feet, wincing as the pain in his side grew. It would require several bandages and perhaps stitches with the _Virtuosa_ doctor, but it was no worse than anything he had endured before.

Georg snatched up a rope and jumped down from the lovely maiden's head. He made a landing on the deck, right in front of Tom. Though they had just claimed a fantastic victory, the first mate's expression was deeply concerned.

“We have to find the captain.” Tom said.

“Maybe later.” Georg said, “There's something-”

“No, I must find him!” Tom insisted.

He turned the the man who had so recently held a sword to his throat. He extended his own sword and pressed it against the man's chest, “Take us to the captain.”

The man's eyes were steely, “No.”

Tom reached out and grabbed the man's long, greasy hair and yanked his head back. Pressing the tip of his sword against the throbbing pulse, Tom growled, “Don't think I won't kill you and afterwords throw your body to the mermaids you have so recently attempted to kill.”

The man grudgingly got to his feet. Tom kept his sword in the man's back as he led the way up a flight of stairs. Georg followed close behind, his hand on his sword in case the first mate decided to fight back again.

The man led them down a dark hall until they reached a small room at the end. The first mate knocked out a unique rhythm and called out softly, “It's me.”

“Come in.” A man's voice called.

The first mate opened the door. Tom pushed him out of the way and charged inside, only to be sharply caught off guard by the man sitting behind the desk. He was large and thick through the middle, with black dreadlocks that fell to the middle of his back, and a big beard resting against his chest. His fingers and neck were circled by heavy, gold jewelry.

Tom would've recognized the man anywhere. He was the very same pirate that had held Tobias outside the inn, demanding Tom come out and have a dual because Tom had killed some of his crew members . . . Crew members that had attempted to rape Billa.

Tom felt anger in his chest grow hotter and more explosive in just the few seconds it took for him to realize who the captain of this ship was.

“You.” He took a step forward.

The big man rose from behind his desk, withdrawing his sword, the same one as before with the silver skulls on the handle.

“Hello again, Captain Trumper.” The man spat, “I suspect you are here to kill me this time?”

 

~

 

When Billa opened his eyes, everything was quiet and peaceful. Dry and warm. No more pain, no more swollen stomach.

He was lying on a giant, plush bed that hosted a dozen pillows and a thick, white comforter. There was a soft, white light radiating from the woman seated in the chair next to him.

He started upward, “My baby!”

She rose from the chair and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, pressing him back to the pillows, “It's okay. You're safe.”

“But, my baby-” Billa began, tearfully.

“Asleep.” She smiled and motioned to the cradle sitting right next to the bed.

He relaxed against the sheets, breathing in and out in relieved gasps, “Oh God . . .I made it. . .”

“You're a strong boy.” She said, sitting down next to him and sliding cool fingertips through his hair, “Perhaps even stronger now.”

“Who are you?” He asked, in wonder, “Why have you helped me, two times now?”

“A long time ago, my father told me to take care of our race.” She replied, softly, “He left our people in my hands, and though it may not seem so now, it took many years before I was worthy of the role . . . I've made mistakes, Billa, but I'm simply trying to set them right. And I know you're the right one to do the job.”

“How?” He asked, bewildered.

“Because, you chose Thomas Trumper. You chose him because of love. He's a good man . . . I see the potential for a revolution in the two of you. There has been a fault in our people's laws and morals for many years, and I'm sad to say it's because of me. I put some of those rules in place when I thought I was doing the right thing.”

“A revolution . . . To integrate humans with mermaids?” Billa murmured.

“Yes.” She smiled, brightly, “To bring change. It starts with your father.”

She rose from the bed and appeared to be leaving when Billa pushed himself up on his elbows and called out, “Wait!”

“Yes?” She lingered by the door.

“What about Tom? Where is he . . .?” He looked around the room, not seeing any windows, “Where am _I?_ ”

“Don't worry.” She said, softly, “Get your rest back. Tom will be in to see you in a day or two.”

Before he could argue, she was gone, like magically fair dust, just vanished. He gazed at the place where she had once stood in awe, wondering if this was all some dream he had manufactured to get past the pain of childbirth.

Then, his eyes darted to the cradle, and he couldn't get out of the bed fast enough.

“My baby, my baby.” He whispered, kicking the sheets off his legs and swinging them to the floor.

He had been waiting weeks and months to finally lay eyes on his little darling. He had wondered what he or she might look like, if it would have Tom's nose, or Billa's lips, the sandy brown of Tom's hair, or the jet black of Billa's. He had even dreamed of holding the squirming little bundle of joy; he had dreamed about the child growing, laughing, talking, running, swimming . . .

Billa stumbled out of the bed, finding his legs weak and his body still slightly aching from the recent delivery. He ignored it all as he leaned over the cradle, laying his eyes for the first time on the beautiful offspring he and Tom had created together. He clapped a hand over his mouth as a gasp of wonderment left his lips. Fresh tears – tears of joy – filled his eyes.

He could hardly believe his eyes.

 

~

 

Tom was not interested in the other captain's dramatization of events this time around. He stepped farther into the room, followed closely by Georg, who moved like his shadow, ready to strike.

“Perhaps I can get a name this time?” He asked.

“Certainly.” The man smiled, icily, “Since you have gone one step further than killing my men . . . It's Josiah. Josiah Ransom.”

Tom pinched the brim of his hat, “Pleased to meet you, Captain Ransom. It will be my pleasure to kill you.”

The man lunged out from behind his desk, “You come onto my ship, kill my men, and threaten to kill me? Not without a fight!”

Georg stepped forward, bringing himself shoulder-to-shoulder with Tom.

“Go.” Tom said, “Make sure the ship is secure and everyone is okay. I can handle this.”

“Captain . . .”

“If you're asking if I'm sure, I'm sure.” Tom replied, smiling wickedly, “I've been waiting for this.”

“Okay.” Georg agreed slowly.

He exited the room, leaving Tom and Ransom alone.

The two captains circled the small room, swords brandished, but not yet meeting.

“So,” Ransom said, “What is this really about, Trumper? I know you're not still pissed off about our little dual.”

“I could care less about that little sideshow.” Tom replied, with a low chuckle, “This about what you're hunting out here.”

Ransom's eyes narrowed, “The mermaids?”

“Yes. We have an alliance.” Tom replied, “And this is the second time I've found your ship attacking them.”

A flicker of realization dawned in Ransom's eyes, “So . . . that was you that night?”

“Yes, it was me.” Tom smiled, tightly.

“I see. It must be Fate.” Ransom shrugged, “We are meant to die at each other's hands.”

“Not me.” Tom shook his head, “Just you.”

With that, they lunged into vicious swordplay, blades ringing loudly against one another in the confined space of the little room. They circled about, kicking furniture and other objects out of the way as their fight took up every inch of space.

Tom darted behind the desk just as Ransom's sword attempted to slice through his flesh. They stood tensely on either side of the desk waiting for the other to move. Tom feinted left, then right; Ransom attempted to push the desk into Tom and pin him against the wall. Finally, Tom jumped over the desk, swinging his sword as he slid across the smooth wood. His sword hit home, cutting into Ransom's forearm and causing the man to recoil sharply. Unfortunately the strike only seemed to make the big man angrier.

They threw themselves back into the fight, both men willing to go to the death. They were both sweating and panting, covering in cuts and bruises, when at last, Ransom managed to unhand Tom of his sword. The weapon clattered to the ground and Tom stumbled back, helpless. Ransom came at him, sword poised to the deliver a killing blow. Tom backed into the wall, trying to use it as leverage instead of a benefit for Ransom as he caught the other captain by the wrist and tried to push the sword out of his face. They strained back and forth, veins standing out, faces flushed red with anger and determination. Tom's muscles burned and quivered as he held Ransom's hand back, barely keeping the sword and inch from his face. Ransom's dark eyes bulged from his strained face; he was bearing all his weight down on Tom, pushing the tip of the sword ever close to Tom's eye.

Suddenly, Tom let go and dropped to the ground, causing the sword to imbed itself in the wall where his head had once been. Dropping down, he yanked the little knife from his boot and pushed himself back to his feet. With the upward motion, he drove the little knife into Ransom's gut. Just as he had imagined, blood gushed over his fingers and hand, hot and thick, a testament that he had finally won.

Ransom stumbled back, his eyes wide, his lips gasping for breath, “You . . .you bastard. . .”

Tom withdrew the knife and took a stride forward, hacking the little blade straight into Ransom's neck, at the jugular. Blood spurted from the wound and Tom let go, watching as the man's huge frame fell to the ground with a thud. He was dead in minutes as the wounds rapidly leaked blood from both his neck and stomach.

Tom stared down at the man's dead, fallen body.

He had expected to feel relief, if not triumph. He felt neither.

They had taken down Jorg, and now they had removed this threat as well. He had been counting and this victory taking away the threat of Tom and Billa losing their chance at happiness. He had thought this was the last enemy between them. But he knew the truth . . . It was in the blood on his hands, that knife in Ransom's neck, the sword lying uselessly on the floor, the title of “captain” before his name. _That_ was the enemy he had been searching for; he just didn't know if he could give it all up.

 

~

 

It wasn't until everyone was back aboard the _Virtuosa_ and the two ships were disconnected that Georg broke the news to Tom.

He tried to do it as gently as possible, with great hope of finding Billa in the waters surrounding the fight. Even so, Tom exploded into uncommon, but understandable rage. He ranted uselessly about making Billa promise to stay put, about telling Georg to watch over his pregnant bride while he was gone, about how he had fucking done all of this Billa. He couldn't fucking be gone!  
Tom stormed to his cabin to find a change of clothes and a bandage for his side. He was going to go out there, by himself if need be, and comb the waters until he found his Billa. This just couldn't be the end of it all. He had worked to hard to make Billa happy, to make _them_ happy, just to have it ripped out of his grasp at the final moment.

Tom threw the door of his cabin open and came to a skidding halt when he saw the woman seated behind his desk. He glanced around, checking to see if any windows had been left open. How the fuck had she gotten here, and who was she?

“Hello, Tom.” She said, smiling softly.

“Who are you?” Tom demanded, no longer in a mood to be civil, “How the hell did you get in here?”

She rose from behind the desk and seemed to glide toward him. He could see now that she was very beautiful, with long, dark hair and wide, hazel eyes. She was, in fact, stunning. And though his heart had moments ago been raging with anger and hurt, he could no longer feel anything but calm. It was as if she exuded peace, caused it to wash over him in waves. He suddenly realized how tired he was.

“I am Nena.” She smiled, gently, “The mermaids sent me.”

He frowned, glancing down at her quite human legs, “But you're. . .”

“I have certain abilities.” She said, “Now, I believe you're looking for an absolutely precious boy named Billa.”

He swallowed hard as the words quickly conjured an image of his Billa in his head, waking from a long nap with his head nuzzled up against Tom's shoulder, his thick, dark hair all askew.

Tom nodded weakly, “Yes . . .Please, tell me where he is.”

He looked up at Nena and saw that she was gazing at him with sympathetic eyes. Reaching out a white, flawless hand, she laid cool fingertips against his side, where the first mate's sword had sliced into his skin.

“You can't go to Billa and your baby looking like this.” She said, softly.

A bright, white light sparked from her fingertips. There was a single moment of sharp pain in his side before his whole body exploded into warm, humming bliss. He couldn't feel anything but warm and calm washing over him, a mixture of drowsiness, yet also acute relief.

When he opened his eyes, he realized he was gazing right at the same mysterious creature that had given Billa his legs.

“How do I thank you?” He murmured.

“You take my message to Jorg . . . to all the mermaids.” She replied, “Change is inevitable, Tom. So is love, but it is so much harder when hatred lingers. Make them see how wrong they are. You were worthy enough to show Billa _and_ me . . . You can also show them.”

Tom nodded with certainty. He didn't know if he wanted to face Jorg again, and he didn't know if it were true that he was the person to carry the message of love and equality to the mermaids, but he had to try. This beautiful creature had saved Billa's life more than once, and had now saved Tom's; he had to repay her any way he could.

Nena smiled brightly, almost hopefully, then leaned forward and whispered Billa's location in his ear. Relief flooded him as he realized the destination would not take him long to reach.

“Go to him.” She said, her face seeming to glow brighter now, “He needs you now more than ever.”

He wanted to reach out and touch her, embrace her for all she had done, but in an instant, she was gone, shimmering into nothingness and leaving the room despairingly dim.

Tom stood, staring aimlessly across the room in shock and wonder, pondering if he had simply dreamed up the entire encounter. The fact that his side was completely healed and he no longer felt the pain of the battle in bones were tangible enough proof that Nena really existed.

Tom had entered the room, enraged and ready to take on the entire world if he had to; he left, grinning stupidly and practically skipping down the hall. When he found Georg, he didn't give his first mate time to question the rapid change in his demeanor.

“We need to chart a course.” He said, grabbing Georg by the shoulders and smiling broadly, “I know where Billa is.”

 

~

 

The little port city of Bancroft was located just off the coast of Billa's home seas, on a little island not far from the cursed one where it had all started.

When Tom set foot on the sand with Billa's location firmly in mind, the sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing. It was a glorious day. All the blood from last night's battle was washed away and Tom was dressed in fresh clothing, prepared to meet his Billa, and his child for the first time.

His spirits couldn't have been higher if they had floated off into the stratosphere like the clouds. His heart tugged with the urgency to find Billa, but there was a keen niggling in the back of his mind that this time, all would be well.

Georg walked with Tom to the inn that Nena had specified. After much explaining, the first mate had finally come to understand the meaning of Tom's suddenly happy disposition and the healing of his wounds. He was nearly as excited as Tom to see the baby; Georg had been his best friend for many years, and Tom couldn't think of a better person to escort him to the meeting of his life.

On the doorstep of the inn, Tom paused and drew in a deep breath. He was so exhilarated and nervous; his heart was pounding and his stomach danced. He was a father; really, truly a father to a little boy or girl.

“It's okay. Breathe.” Georg said, patting his back, “You're gonna be a good dad.”

“Thank you.” Tom tried to smile, “This is why I need you at my side, Georg.”

Georg smiled, “Let's go.”

They stepped inside and informed the clerk that they were searching for Bill Trumper, the name Nena had put down on the form. The clerk smiled politely and gave the two men the room number.

Tom jogged up the stairs, his heart pounding so hard it hurt. He couldn't wait to see Billa; he wanted to kiss that boy as hard as he could and hug him tight, never let go. He wanted to see his baby, hold the little child and kiss it's tiny face. His own little family, all together, and happy; it was all he wanted.

Tom turned sharply around the corner and scanned his eyes across the numbers on the doors. He quickly located the room number and rushed to it. With a shaking hand, he knocked rapidly.

“Come in.” Billa's voice was clear and loud.

Tom thrust the door open and rushed inside. The room was clean and white, sparsely decorated with the bed, a chair, a chest of drawers, and little bouquet of blue flowers someone had brought in. Billa lay on his side at the edge of the bed, his hand dipped into the bassinet seated next to him.

“Tom!” He cried, happily, sitting up from the pillows.

He held his arms out as Tom rushed to the edge of the bed and caught Billa up in his arms. He clutched the slender boy to his chest, marveling how their bodies could now fit together without the pregnant stomach in between them. He dug his fingers into Billa's hair, relishing how soft it was against his skin, and pressing his nose to the silky strands, breathing in the familiar scent.

“Oh my God, I thought I'd lost you.” He whispered.

Billa's arms were tight around Tom's waist and he gave Tom a firm squeeze, “No, I'm here. I'm here, Tom.”

Tom pulled back and clutched each side of Billa's face, “Let me look at you . . .God, you're beautiful.”

Billa blinked back joyful tears and smiled broadly, “Tom, I love you. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” Tom replied, quickly, “I love you to the ends of the earth and back, do you know that?”

They crushed their mouths together, kissing hot and passionate, trying to communicate their love and need they had felt during their time of separation, just trying to make up for what they had lost, even if it had only been for a day. Tom pressed hot kisses all over Billa's mouth and then to his cheeks, forehead, and nose, taking in every inch of his beautiful face. He never wanted to feel this way again; that he had been right on the edge of losing everything he cared about, even if this wonderful feeling in his chest was the most gratifying sensation ever.

Billa pulled back, panting and grinning, “Tom, Tom, you have to see . . .”

“What?” Tom asked.

“It's the most amazing thing ever.” Billa whispered, his eyes filling with fresh, happy tears, “Look.”

He pointed to the cradle, where hardly a little snore or murmur had been coming from since Tom had arrived.

Tom's heart caught in his chest and he wondered if he would go into cardiac arrest from pure excitement.

“Our baby.” He murmured, dragging himself to his feet on weak knees.

Billa bit his lower lip, trying not to grin so wide his face cracked, “Yes.”

Tom dragged himself to the edge of the cradle and peered inside, his heart pounding, his hands quivering. Looking down into the cradle, he found the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. The squirming little mass batted a colorful blanket away from not one, but two pairs of huge eyes – one brown, one green. Two little sets of hands reached up towards Tom's adoring and shocked expression, and they laid their tiny, dark heads together in loving, bonded bliss.

Twins.

 

To be continued . . .

 

 

 


End file.
